THE OPEN ROAD AHEAD
One morning during my Berlin buildup, my dad and I were flying along a familiar road when I turned to him and said, “Whatever happens at the end of this, no one can take this moment away from us.”
At the time, I did not yet realise how much those words would come to mean.
Looking back on this year, I keep returning to that morning. So much has happened since my last blog: some of the strongest running of my life, more opportunities to compete, an accident, changed plans, and another frightening reminder of how quickly my health can turn.
2026 has given me performances I am proud of, mornings with my dad I will never forget, and people who have made the difficult days easier to face. It has also brought disappointment and frightening moments that I am still processing.
I have shared much of it as it happened. But there are decisions, adjustments, and hours of work between those posts that deserve a little more space.
FINDING MY STRIDE
Blood, Sweat & Tears ended with my second South African marathon title at Durban International in May. By then, the year had already included victories and course records at the Firgrove 21 km, Tygerberg 30 km, and Durban City Marathon. After so much time away from competition, being able to race again meant so much to me.
There were more highlights after Durban. I won the Stella Royal 25 km in a new course record and became the KZN half-marathon champion. Neither came from perfect preparation. At Stella Royal, I treated the hilly course as a hard long run after a difficult week with a coeliac flare-up and a lot of digestive issues.
For the KZN Championships, I entered on Thursday for a Sunday race, without a proper taper.
Earlier in my career, I would have been reluctant to do that. This year, I wanted to make the most of the opportunities my body gave me. Many races replaced workouts, and competing alongside others helped me get more out of myself.
On Comrades Day, we felt inspired to go a little further. I completed my second-ever 50 km run, five minutes faster than my first, which I had run to celebrate my 30th birthday last December.
This run left me excited for what lay ahead and eager to explore what I might be capable of beyond the standard marathon distance.
However, by June, my focus was on the Berlin Marathon.
I deliberately chose a four-month buildup rather than the three-month blocks I had often used before. With my medical condition, I needed room for the unpredictable: missed sessions, difficult days, and periods when my body didn't respond as planned.
Even with those interruptions, I was building and making a lot of progress.
Key marathon sessions such as 2 × 10 km with a kilometre float and 5 × 4 km or 4 × 5 km with 1 km floats gave me confidence. I also did combination workouts with 1 km, 2 km and 3 km repeats—all classic marathon staples that I had done during the COVID-19 pandemic while training in Kenya with former world record holder Brigid Kosgei.
My weekly long runs and medium long runs were also getting faster. By August, on the same 30 km Umhlanga–Durban route, I averaged five seconds per kilometre faster than before Durban International, finishing with a negative split despite the return headwind.
The work extended beyond those sessions. There were early bedtimes, consistent strength training sessions, a focus on fuelling, and daily health monitoring.
I still had to balance all of this while working full-time as a sports nutritionist and running coach, fitting daily coaching calls and consultations around marathon training.
My dad carried bottles, collected layers, filmed our adventures, and somehow still found the energy to race me up the final climb and crack a few dad jokes along the way.
I truly have the best training partner ever and could not have asked for better. Not a lot of athletes would be willing to wait until the morning—or sometimes even until the run had started—to find out what they would be doing that day.
I trained hard, and I loved it. After everything we had been through, sharing those mornings with him was one of the greatest gifts of the year.
I had many health setbacks and scares; it was anything but a smooth buildup. But my training has never been smooth. My health has forced me to adjust and work with my body rather than try to rebel against it. That is how I get the most out of myself and keep making progress.
Some days are good, some are very bad, and some I just have to survive—literally! Here and there, I get a glimpse of what I am truly capable of, and that allows me to keep going and believing.
ONE WRONG STEP
At the end of August, exactly one month before I was scheduled to run as part of the elite field at the Berlin Marathon, we went out for a planned 32 km long run. It was still dark and the conditions were wet and windy—creating the perfect storm.
At approximately 19 km, while running uphill, I moved to avoid a hole in the road. My dad was coming up on my inside, and a car was approaching from behind. Trying to avoid a collision with his bike, I jumped sideways, landed very awkwardly on the side of my foot, and felt a sharp pain in my right glute.
There had been no warning signs. I had completed all my training and recent races up until that point without any pain, excessive tightness, or weakness in that area—or anywhere else in my body, for that matter.
I hoped it was nothing serious. But the pain stayed with me through the day and night. Walking, sitting, and ordinary things such as cooking became uncomfortable.
My physiotherapist, Andrew at Move Physio in Ballito, diagnosed me with an SI joint sprain—a tear in the ligaments supporting the joint where my spine meets my pelvis. With my previous L5–S1 fusion and three screws in my back, we needed to be careful.
Changing my race plans was difficult and not something I took lightly. I had poured so much time, energy, and effort into this buildup.
Financially, we stretched ourselves very thin.
I ran unsponsored this year, without a retainer or brand deals. I ran my shoes into the ground, to the point where they started tearing apart and hurting my feet. Seeing me train mostly in Nike gear and shoes often leads people to assume I am sponsored by Nike. I am not.
I received some product and shoe support as a junior athlete with the Elite Green Dream Team, and I also trained at a Nike-sponsored camp in Kenya. I had a contract in the works ahead of the Tokyo Games, but it ultimately fell through when I did not secure the qualifying time within the window. I had been selected for the squad after my 2020 Sanlam Cape Town Marathon victory, but after eight marathon postponements and cancellations, I never got to seal the deal.
Some of my Nike gear even dates back to my time running in the States between 2015 and 2018, when I lived close to the Nike Factory Store. I have bought other pieces over the years when financially possible. Anything I buy always comes from sales, Black Friday deals or Discovery Vitality discounts and points—I never pay full price. I have also been fortunate to receive gear from friends and family over the years. Somehow, we make it work.
I have run in Nike shoes since I was 16 and have found a fit that works well for me. Since back surgery, I have paid close attention to my running form and strength, and I prefer to stick with what works. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
I have enough, and I am very thankful. I simply wanted to clarify my situation for those who have asked or wondered.
Funding my running this year was a constant grind. I raced to earn money for shoes, training expenses and race entries so I could keep training and competing, while also covering my sky-high medical expenses and our other basic living expenses.
I kept hoping and believing that I would produce a result that would be good enough for someone.
That opportunity or breakthrough did not happen at the Berlin Marathon.
I still have the unused German visa.
I thought I had been given a second chance after having to withdraw in 2023 due to my back injury and undergoing spinal fusion surgery the following year. Ultimately, it was not the full-circle fairytale moment I had dreamt of—but life is not meant to be a fairytale. Life happens. And yes, I was incredibly disappointed, frustrated and sad, but I was not heartbroken as I had been in 2023.
No race will ever define me again. I am so much more than just an athlete or a runner—I am a daughter, sister, friend, sports nutritionist, running coach and all-round passionate person with a drive for excellence. My identity does not lie in the times I have run or the races I have won.
My identity lies in who I am. I am a fighter and an overcomer.
POLE POLE
While training in Kenya during the pandemic, a coach ingrained two words in me: pole pole. Slowly, slowly.
I needed that reminder now. I took two weeks off running and focused on prescribed rehabilitation and treatment. Because I had not been cross-training during the buildup, I chose not to introduce something new while in acute pain simply to hold on to fitness.
Andrew at Move Physio and the team at Kico Life became an instrumental part of my recovery.
Alongside physiotherapy, I attended regular hyperbaric oxygen and infrared/red-light sessions. During that early period of rest and treatment, I progressed from constant pain to walking pain-free after a week of daily 90-minute hyperbaric oxygen sessions at 1.4 ATA and daily 20-minute medical-grade infrared/red-light sessions, alongside my twice-weekly sessions with Andrew.
After taking two weeks completely off training, my first runs back were short and easy, on softer surfaces and a flatter section at Holla Trails. I still had aerobic fitness, but the injured area could not resume where it had left off. How I felt during a run, afterwards, and the following day helped guide the return.
Before the accident, I was probably fitter than ever. But I knew I had to hold back and that a successful return would require discipline and patience.
THE MESSY MIDDLE
Then, in September, I experienced a horrifying health scare.
A long run ended in a medical emergency beside the road. A kind stranger stopped his bakkie, helped me into the front seat, loaded my dad’s bicycle onto the back, and rushed us home. What followed were some of the most frightening days my parents and I have experienced.
One night, my heart rate averaged just under 100 bpm and peaked above 120. During the day, simply walking around sent it to 120–140 bpm.
The pain was immense. Some nights felt like being a boxer in a ring, taking painful punch after punch without knowing when the round would end.
The next morning, my dad told me he had checked on me during the night. I had been lying so still that he did not think I was alive.
He thought he had lost me.
Living with a rare pituitary condition—hypopituitarism—and AVP deficiency means constant monitoring and adjusting. Previous hospital experiences have also left me frightened about whether my condition will be managed correctly when I need care.
After my previous experiences in ICU, I told my parents that if I were going to die, I would rather die in my own bed, surrounded by the people who loved me the most. I did not want to go into ICU again. That was my decision, shaped by what I had already been through.
Recovering from an injury while navigating another severe medical setback made everything more complicated.
When I returned to running, there were muscular cramps, stomach cramps, and ongoing pain, including symptoms around my left glute and hamstring. In videos, I noticed myself leaning to one side, possibly compensating without realising it.
I continued physiotherapy, daily rehab and mobility, strength work, compression, and treatment. Some days brought progress; on others, another niggle would flare up.
The uncertainty wore me down. I was putting hours into recovery while trying to keep working and manage my health, yet I felt a bit stuck.
But I knew that having done many hard things before does not mean I always have the answers. Sometimes I am simply trying to do what I can today without expecting myself to have everything figured out.
THE ROAD TO THE RECORD
At the end of October, we returned to Stellenbosch. I continued my recovery, including 90-minute hyperbaric oxygen sessions at Ultimate Body Recovery at 2.0 ATA. I could feel an immediate impact from the treatment in how quickly my body was healing and recovering after sessions. My sleep was also much better than usual.
Being with my family again meant a great deal, even while I missed the warmth and community of KZN.
Gradually, there were more encouraging runs. I was not where I had been before the accident, but I could also recognise how far I had come since the previous year. Perspective is always key.
This is something the race photographs do not tell you: Winelands was a backup.
I already had an entry for the half marathon. About two weeks before the race, just before substitutions and upgrades closed, I upgraded it to the marathon.
I had not peaked for this race at all. In fact, I had not done any workouts for more than three weeks or any long runs over 30 km for more than a month before the race. The preparation behind it included the fitness built for Berlin, the interruption since August, and the careful work of returning.
Even then, getting to the start was uncertain. Managing my symptoms and health had been difficult for two days beforehand, and I went to bed the night before feeling terrible, not knowing whether my body would allow me to toe the start line the next day.
We had good memories of the Winelands course in Stellenbosch, and I had certainly done many special long runs with my dad in the buildup to winning my second SA marathon title. I had also won the half marathon twice before, setting the still-standing course record of 1:15:13 in 2018.
However, there were bad memories attached to the course, too. The previous November, I had developed hypothermia during a long run on the roads through the open landscapes just outside Stellenbosch. My body shut down, everything went black, and my mom had to collect us and rush me home.
During the marathon, the cold air on that exact same stretch of road brought back more than the memory. I began experiencing some of the same symptoms. My feet started feeling numb, and doubt crept in.
Then a stranger pulled up beside me, shouted my name, and encouraged me without knowing the battle I was facing internally. His words gave me new strength.
I managed to get more fluids and carbs in with Precision Fuel & Hydration’s Carb Only Drink Mix. My race-day fuelling strategy didn’t quite go to plan, as my bottles were nowhere to be seen at the first two tables. At 15 km, I grabbed two bottles, downed one and ran with the other for 2 km. At the next aid station, only 1 km later, I picked up another bottle containing 30 g of carbs and sipped on it until the hill before the Steynsrust Bridge climb.
I finally started to find my rhythm on the R44 at 25 km, and after 30 km, right before the big 3 km climb, I was feeling really strong. I overtook two men on the hill and finished strong.
I also had to navigate the half-marathon field after the marathon merged with the 21 km race at 30 km, sharing the road for the final 12 km. But the support along the route was incredible. The encouragement from the runners beside me carried me home.
When I questioned what my body had left, people helped me keep going until the end.
I crossed the finish line in 2:37:23, winning my hometown marathon and breaking Isavel Roche-Kelly’s 45-year-old course record of 2:42:27.
To better a record held by a two-time Comrades champion, with my family there to share it, was deeply meaningful after all the uncertainty, doubts, and setbacks of the past few months.
THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE RESULT
When I think about this year, I think about the people who made it possible.
My parents, my brothers, and the rest of my family have shared the worry, the setbacks, and the uncertainty.
My dad has been beside me for the early mornings and long runs. Dad, you have seen me at my very best and also my absolute lowest. The time we have spent together has strengthened our relationship in ways that mean more to me than any result. I would never be where I am today if it weren’t for you. The victories we have had this year are just as much yours as they are mine.
Thank you to Andrew and the team at Move Physio, Kico Life, and Ultimate Body Recovery for your care and patience.
To my manager, Craig, for standing beside me through the changed plans and helping me look ahead. You are the one who believed in me when the rest of the world, including me, thought I was done. I am privileged to have you on my team and thankful for your mentorship and continued support through the years.
To Dolphin Coast Striders and the wider KZN running community in Ballito, Durban and Umhlanga for making my dad and me feel at home and always supporting us on the road. It truly means the world to us.
I am also grateful to Carbon Endurance and Precision Fuel & Hydration for supporting my journey. Winelands was my first race as an official brand ambassador, making it a special way to begin that chapter.
To my athletes and nutrition clients at Annie's Athletes, thank you for trusting me with your own journeys.
And to everyone who has sent a message, called my name from the roadside, or taken the time to read: I hear you, I see you, and I appreciate you.
THE ROAD AHEAD
During my Berlin Marathon buildup, I realised how the journey can reveal what you truly want. The further I ran, the clearer that became. Longer runs, mileage, and sustained efforts have always been where I thrive, and my goals were beginning to evolve even before the accident.
For a long time, when people asked about ultras, my answer was, “Not yet.”
Now, I am looking towards that next step. I am done waiting. The time is now!
I believe I was made for more and that my body and mind were built to go the distance. I do not know exactly where the open road ahead will take me, but I want to keep exploring what I am capable of while building a stronger, more resilient body to carry me through the many miles to come.
With my qualifier done and dusted, the training block is on its way, and I am excited about the unknown path ahead.
I am grateful that I get to keep building and exploring my true limits.
That morning on the road with my dad still belongs to us. So do all the other moments we shared along the way. Whatever the next chapter brings, those are part of what I carry forward.
Thank you for being part of this year and for following the whole journey.
There are more miles ahead.
I hope you choose to follow along!
~ Annie
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